Splinters were still dropping off the door frame. She’d forced her way in tonight. This door couldn’t hold her anymore.
Jake stood by the car, his back to me. Diane got in. His phone lit up in his pocket.
He looked down at it. Through the screen door, I watched the color drain from his face. He stared at it for a long time. Then he slid it back in his pocket.
He didn’t show me.
“Jake.” I pressed my forehead against the screen. “What did she say to you?”
He was quiet for so long that Diane’s taillights disappeared at the end of the street.
“…Nothing,” he said.
I knew he was lying. Diane was sitting in that car — and one message from her had pulled him straight back to page one of her ledger.
He was gripping that phone like it was an IOU I would never get to see.The lock was still broken.
